As I walked up the hills, I could see the beautiful view in front of me better than I could before: the sky, the pinkish-blue clouds, hundreds of different flowers and trees… They were all so great that it all looked like a painting. With small and careful steps, I walked next to the end of the cliff, enjoying my time. I was out for hiking and trying to escape from the boring and tiring life I had—always repeating the same things, between tall big buildings, no green and all grey. I loved it here, and it was my own spot for a long time since I never saw anyone else coming here before.
I sat down onto the grass and leaned back, watching the clouds. The sounds of the birds filled my ears as I closed my eyes and released any thought that took place in my head. It was very peaceful now, and knowing that I was the only one admiring this beautiful nature made me feel great.
That’s when I heard footsteps behind me. The sudden noise of the rustling grass made me jump in my place and I opened my eyes, peeking my head up to see if anyone was there. I was sure that I heard something, but nothing was there. With curiosity rising in me, I stood up and walked around to see if it was an animal or something—if it wasn’t a human.
I walked and walked and walked, increasing my pace with each step. Something was off, and I felt weird—almost nervous. I started to run around and looked everywhere, then suddenly stumbled over something and fell down. I hit my leg on the ground, the soil getting my pants all dirty. Between my whines, I looked down to see what made me trip—and I saw a red, not very small but not big box, detailed with gold.
The box was very beautiful, and it looked really new. I took it and turned it in my hands a few times before trying to open it, but it didn’t work. I got up, forgetting the pain in my leg, and walked back to the spot I was before. I sat down and inspected it, staring at the pretty details. As I observed it, I noticed that it had a thin gap that seemed like it was glued in some way—making it difficult for me to open. I took my bag next to me and searched for anything that could help me open it. I was so eager to see what was inside! I saw the little pocketknife in the pocket of my bag and took it, then slid it under the lid where the glue was and began cutting along the line. It was a hard substance, but the knife was helping me out, the lid slowly moving from its place.
After some time, I managed to open the lid. There was something in it, a cloth surrounding something, but I couldn’t see it. I took it and ripped off the cloth, revealing what was inside.
A watch. At first glance, it looked like an antique pocket watch: round face, brass casing etched with constellations and runes that seemed to shimmer when I squinted. The glass wasn’t really glass—it felt like liquid and crystal at the same time, shifting gently under my fingers, like it was breathing. Just like the box, it had gold details shaped like the sun and the moon—between them there was an image of an hourglass. The dial had no traditional numbers. Instead, four-digit numbers were appearing on the golden details, changing every two seconds. And the sound it made: different but matching notes of an instrument I had never heard before.
I didn’t know how I found this… thing. Or maybe, it found me. In my hands, I had no idea what to do with it. I was both mesmerized and terrified, watching the numbers appearing on it—changing very rapidly. I noticed two little crowns placed on the side of the watch. Both were gold and had serrated edges.
Curiosity. Every single cell of my body was curious, eager to find out what these crowns did. Was this a normal watch or something else? Without hesitation, I pushed the first button with my finger. That’s when I experienced something I had never seen before—I can’t even describe it. Time didn’t stop—it hesitated. Like the universe was waiting to see what I would do next. The birds, they were hanging in the sky—not moving even a bit. The rustling of the trees was gone, and the sound of the wind had stopped. Dust hung like stars in a vacuum. The hum of the world dropped into silence. Every single living creature was staying still, and I was the only one that wasn’t affected.
I felt frightened. My consciousness was about to drift away, the surprise and excitement too much for me to bear. I quickly pushed the same crown, and time started flowing again. With a small move, everything had gained its life back, continuing their actions. I took a deep breath while trying to make sense of what happened. I pinched my side—no, this wasn’t a dream! It was all real.
For the first time in my life, I had seen time without being seen by it. I moved through frozen seconds like a ghost slipping through the cracks of now.
But of course, I wanted more.
The hesitation burned my fingers. I wanted to experience it again. With another move, I twisted the other crown, the one that was under the first one:
And the world shattered.
When it reformed, I was standing on a sun-scorched hill, the air thick with smoke, screams, and salt. The city below was burning. Roman soldiers marched. Elephants roared in the distance.
I was there. In it. The past. Not a simulation. Not a vision. Real.
Time travel isn’t like in the movies. It doesn’t whoosh or flash. It folds. Like paper curling in on itself. You feel the weight of centuries—thousands, millions of years—press against your lungs; like breathing history. You can see anything, everything that had ever happened, in a single second.
The watch burned on my wrist, the strap pulsing with my heartbeat—made of something not quite leather, almost alive. The digits showed “0054,” and the golden carved moon on it was shining. I was a confused mess, standing between reality—between the war, the watch attached to me. I had to run. I needed to run. This was real. All of this—I had to survive!
I ran and ran, but people around me noticed—some warriors staring at me. It was only a matter of time before one of them yelled and started to run! I was racing against time, and just when I wished for a miracle to happen, that’s when everything cut again. Time bent, the great pressure on my body came back, and the noises of the war disappeared.
I fell down, hitting my head on a hard concrete-like material. I got my vision back after a few seconds, but the sun shining on my face didn’t help my eyes. I got up, not feeling any pain even though I had fallen quite hard on the ground. With my hands, I sheltered my eyes from the blinding rays of the sun. Looking around, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing: a city with green everywhere! The oxygen that filled my lungs was pure—it wasn’t polluted like it was in the cities of my time. All the people had a smile on their faces, all wearing white. Everyone seemed happy. Animals were all around the city—the birds chirping and flapping around, cats, dogs, ducks and other creatures all living with the people around them. The technology here was impressive. Robots were everywhere, helping people, talking to other robots, feeding animals. I saw some of them flying around, playing with kids, and even complimenting others like real human beings.
I looked at the watch and saw the digits “3542” visible in front of the shiny carved gold sun. The moon I had seen before—maybe that symbolized the BC, while the sun resembled the AD. It all made sense now. The digits and the shining image determined the time zone that would be travelled to! I was in the future now—and a minute ago, I was in the past.
The watch didn’t just let me move through time. It let time move through me. Changed me. It decided what I get to keep, and what gets rewritten. I enjoyed it. And I wanted to see more.
I’ve travelled to other time zones maybe twenty times since then. Maybe more. Türkiye, 2045. Kyoto, 1760. A ruined New York that hasn’t happened yet—or maybe never will. Each trip, the watch teaches me better. Each trip, I lose a piece of something else—names, faces, emotions that used to be real.
I’m not sure how much of me is left.
But I can’t stop.
Not yet.
I need to see more. The watch is a part of me now—I can’t take it off. I don’t want too anyway. The watch calls me. I’ll discover new time zones.
The thing is, I don’t know what I’ll find there.
But the watch knows.
It always does.
It’ll lead me.